


but until then we'll be patient (and say 'we can't always be happy')

by wearenotsaints



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Or is it a Drabble???, Sorry the kids don’t feature heavily in this one shot, Steve and the kids, Steve is forever a babysitter, and mentions of character death, angst because thats all I know, at least we got justice for Barb, first fic in ages, god I'm rusty at this, i havent slept in a while myself, there is pining, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearenotsaints/pseuds/wearenotsaints
Summary: you're seething with smoke between your teeth(or: Steve doesn't know if he'll ever get over Nancy, but he does know that he's good for the kids or at least they're good for him.)





	but until then we'll be patient (and say 'we can't always be happy')

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written and posted in 3 years. Thanks to ST and all your lovely works that have inspired me in what turned out to be a productive way.
> 
> Title and summary italics from Happy People by Typhoon

Things have not gone back to normal. 

Not even _close_.

Steve shrugs one shoulder sloppily, hoping for an air of nonchalance. The strained line of his jaw gives it away. 

“Nice night?” He asks Nancy and Jonathan, both of them hovering in the entryway, backlit by the soft light of the hall. Nancy nods, something like guilt flitting over her features until they settle into a false smile. The one she always attempts when she looks at him for more than five seconds. 

“The film was good. You’d probably think it was too artsy though,” Jonathan puts out into the sudden silence between them. He rocks forwards on his heels and offers Steve a nod, his features resolute but kind. Jonathan always makes eye contact with Steve these days; it weirdly never feels like a challenge. 

“Did they behave?” Nancy blurts and Steve’s mouth curls up at the corners when he follows her glance around the room. 

Dustin is plastered to Steve’s side, head lolled back and snoring in small bursts, with Will sprawled across both their laps. Mike and Eleven are sound asleep at Steve’s feet, a horribly bright afghan wrapped around them. To his left, Lucas and Max have passed out in the armchair. The farthest away but still within touching distance, always within touching distance. The screen of the tv is a staticy blue, because the VHS tape hit its end a while ago and Steve didn’t have the heart to disturb his charges in order to turn it off. 

He wonders how many hours of sleep a human body can go without before it starts to shut down. 

Dustin would know.

But asking would just make him worry and Steve is supposed to be the adult. 

Even though now, Steve only sleeps in fits and starts, fighting the whole time until he just gives up. He doesn’t like to dwell on how good he’s gotten at giving up. 

He dreams of Barb more than the demogorgon or Billy Hargrove's fists. He thinks—but will never say—that Barb was the start of the end for him and Nancy. If he could have saved her, would things be different?

_Probably not._

“You know how these little shits are,” Steve replies and there’s the tightness at his throat. The one that indicates that he’ll either start laughing uncontrollably or cry. 

Maybe both. 

Nancy’s features soften ever so slightly and it looks like she’s going to say something real; something other than _How are you_ or _sorry_ , so Steve scrunches his eyes shut and lets out a breath. Drags a hand across his face just so he has something to do. Something besides remember the way this used to be easy. Back when the most pressing issue was a basketball game on Friday night and which party to attend after. 

Steve swallows hard again before attempting to speak, “I’m just going to crash here. If that’s ok?” 

“Of course,” Jonathan says before Nancy can object. Steve mumbles his thanks and waits for the two of them to leave; for the kitchen or Jonathan’s room, Steve doesn’t care as long as they just _go._

“Goodnight,” Nancy whispers after Jonathan has crossed the room to shut off the television and slipped his hand into hers—Steve pretends not to notice. _He always notices_ —and tugs her towards the back of the house. She doesn’t look back. 

She never did.

“Night,” Steve breathes out before dropping his head against the back of the couch with a dull thud. 

_We made it another day_ , he thinks vaguely. _Another Normal day._

Then, he stares at the ceiling until the first rays of sunlight chase the shadows away.

**Author's Note:**

> holler at me: juliangohome.tumblr.com


End file.
